3/13

I got up, taking off my shirt; yawning a long breath like some lazy lass. I thought it'd we better if my life isn't always revolve around work, and office desk, and friends. My phone is ringing the alarm again, I don't want to wear back my shirt. 

It's 6 a.m.; my hand scratches the side of spine, the same skin, just not rough enough to be 'boyish'. I sighed. Doesn't matter. The air is nice when I can breath without layers of clothing. At least, when I'm alone. 

I have to go to work, another 10 pages haven't done yet. My lexical, has been deteriorating working time to time in the office, typing the same document over and over. My face scrunches into a frown, frontal lobe hurting. Oh and... 

There's Claire, that devilish girl. I shouldn't get close to her but then, she keeps hanging around, she shouldn't, I'm the black sheep that smiles when others fail. But she might hold something of me back, like the other day. We were chatting just fine when the staff manager butted himself in to throw papers on my face. I was about to throw hands, Claire's defensive grip to my sleeve was just reminding me. There's more old fossils that's worse anyway. 

I can't even pick up my butt to go to work now, just thinking of that. I do watch educational channel everyday, well no, just frequent enough so I can shit on people. Melodramatic much. My apartment is now cramped, and stuffy. I am surely need more than this to throw myself to work, I'm a free woman, I should wander all around freaking Vietnam to even bother and tolerate others to get a little air. Maybe I'm the thing they're tolerating, hah! 

Oh, lovely people, I don't really care. 

Got my uniform, suited up and my corporate bag, I'm a new person again. No... at work it's worse than ever, Claire isn't very vocal today, which doesn't stop her from sticking around, which furthermore annoys my stressful state. I never understand any of the non-verbal things, why, actions are supposed to be more apparent. 

Claire is a fair girl, blond and skittish, while I look like I just got out of rehab. I need to care less about what she thinks, when sometimes I just stare at her and imagine ourselves making out. Though, I have to admit, she's just full of life, maybe I'm the skinny vampire who wants all that for myself. 

My shoulder stiffens, our eyes glanced at each other. She walks pass by just to take documents, I wish my thoughts can be forgotten more the more I daydreaming. That's to say, it's better written in fiction. 

I've been counting, the times I exert my memory, which only exists as glimpses , not full memory of it. I used to think it's fine, now it's gnawing my brain out. Everything is too stifling, I remembered sleeping naked. 

Maybe, diary, my hallucinations wouldn't be as bad today.